Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Good evening, Monsieur,” I greeted him with a slight bow, doing my best to mask any hint of weariness in my voice. “I trust your trip met with success.”
“Ah, Marcus,” he replied, stepping onto the gleaming marble floor of the foyer. “Indeed. Amsterdam is ours for the taking, it would appear.” His cold gray eyes appraised me with their usual calculating intensity, and I wondered—as I often did—whether I could see any suspicion there.
Delacroix’s mouth quirked up very slightly into a smile that, like all his smiles, didn’t touch his eyes. “More importantly, though, how has my innocent little whore been faring?”
“Remarkably well,” I said, forcing a smile. “Sophia has shown exceptional eagerness and unprecedented naughtiness. I’ve been doing the same edging exercises I used on your last piece with her, and they seem to have been quite effective. Making her play with herself twice a day in front of me seems to have rendered her pussy very needy, if her blushes are any sign to go by.”
“Excellent,” Delacroix purred, his tone gratifyingly full of approval. “I trust you’ve kept her properly disciplined?”
“Of course,” I affirmed. My mind involuntarily drifted to memories of Sophia’s submissive eyes, her face flushed with arousal as she lay on her bed before me, her lips wrapped around my cock. I remembered fucking her face, driving deep into her throat until she gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. And later, taking her ass—her muffled cries through the gag mingling with my own soft grunts of pleasure as I claimed her fully.
Part of me wanted to regret those moments, but my dominant instincts wouldn’t allow it. I knew I had done the right thing for Sophia, guiding her through her submission, showing her the depths of her own desire. I knew it would help her tomorrow night to remember her connection to a real, caring dominant—nor did I have any false modesty on that score. I was a Guardsman, trained to master a young woman for both our pleasure. Delacroix… Delacroix fell just shy, I thought, of being a monster.
“Her training harness has made her anus quite ready for you,” I continued, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. The memory of my overwhelming orgasm inside her bottom lingered, a potent reminder of the control I wielded over her.
“Perfect,” Delacroix said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “I look forward to deflowering her tomorrow night. Dress her in something that highlights her fuckability but still allows easy access to all her holes.”
“Understood,” I said, pushing down the uneasy feeling that rose within me. “Her pussy was waxed this morning.”
“Very good,” Delacroix nodded. “I know you will prepare her suitably. You always do, with my fucking pieces.”
“Should I do my usual security sweep of your bedroom before you retire, Monsieur?” I asked, needing to shift the focus away from the unsettling task ahead.
“Yes, please do,” Delacroix agreed, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll pour myself a whisky in the study before I head upstairs.”
“Very well,” I said, turning towards the grand staircase. Each step up felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the conflicting emotions swirling within me. Reaching the top, I moved down the corridor, the ornate decorations blurring together as my thoughts remained fixed on Sophia.
I opened the door to Delacroix’s bedroom and stepped inside.
As I began my sweep, I heightened my senses, staying alert for any sign of disturbance. Silence reigned, but suddenly I thought I could feel something off, a movement in the air that shouldn’t be there.
My hand reached for the light switch, flooding the room with brightness. A faint rustle caught my attention, pulling my gaze towards the alcove where the air-gapped computer was located.
There, with her delicate fingers reaching towards the CPU, stood Sophia. Her posture was tense, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. She wore nothing but her collar and the training harness that left her most vulnerable parts exposed. The sight of her standing there, so brazenly defiant yet exquisitely submissive, sent a jolt through me.
“Sophia,” I breathed, struggling to keep my voice low and steady as I crossed the floor towards her. “What are you doing?”
Her face turned pale, then flushed a deep crimson as she met my gaze. The look in her eyes was one of pure panic, mingled with something else—perhaps shame or regret. I couldn’t be sure.
My mind raced. Could she be an Ostia agent? The thought seemed absurd. In this world, the culture of the Groupe Synergistique and its associated criminal organizations, countless enemies might send a honeypot like her to hack Delacroix’s prized machine. Yet, the memory of her submission, her willingness, her unmistakable arousal under my command, left a lingering question.
“Explain yourself,” I commanded, my voice low and urgent. “Why are you here, and what do you think you’re doing?”